


A Revolutionary State

by americansandcats



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1268476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americansandcats/pseuds/americansandcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historical!Hetalia- A series of one shots centered around the American Revolution and the people involved. Includes historical characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I don't own anyone in this story. This takes place in May 1775, during the French and Indian War (or Seven Years War, depending where you're from I guess) before Braddock's disastrous campaign.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1  
\---------

May-1755

It was a terribly warm day and Alfred paused, wiping the sweat off his brow. The woolen uniform he wore was unbearably hot and though Alfred was so proud to be wearing the bright red colors that represented the might of the British Empire, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Artie should start looking into thinner fabrics. Though not as colorful, the light cotton shirts of his Virginia marksmen suddenly seemed far more appealing in this heat, and Alfred made a mental note to bring their attire to Artie's attention in the next letter he sent him.

Alfred walked quickly and purposefully through the camp, a letter clutched in his hand and his stomach slightly aflutter. He had receive a letter of introduction from Artie to deliver to General Braddock, the commander-in-chief of the North American colonies and the head general of their particular expedition. Though Alfred was no stranger to fighting the Native Americans and the French whenever Francis got too close to his and Artie's lands, this was Alfred's first time working with professional British soldiers and he was horribly excited and nervous.

He was still serving under the command of a colonial officer, of course, but Alfred still couldn't help but be impressed and overwhelmed with the sheer sleekness and confidence that came from being a regular in His Majesty's army. As he walked through camp, taking in the sites (and, unfortunately, the smells) of the camp, he couldn't help but feel a slightly twinge of pride in his heart, seeing the combination of Artie's and his forces.

"…really that surprised?"

Alfred paused, a particularly gruff voice catching his ear. It was rather late in the afternoon and most of the men remained quiet as they moved through their duties, too exhausted from the heat to talk loudly.

"Of course a colonial started this whole ruckus. Some hotheaded so-called gentleman from Virginia, I heard. Washington or something like that? I don't know, it's not a name worth remembering if it's connected to a man that started a world war," The gruff voice continued. Alfred frowned, peeking around the edge of a tent to see two British regulars relaxing as they cooked something over a small fire.

"We had peace with France and what do they do? Murder a damn ambassador, then sign a confession. Yep, we killed him, here's your pass to declare war on us!" The man speaking with the gruff voice continued, "So now we've got a world war on our hands and I'm stuck in this godforsaken country."

"Well they say he couldn't speak French, you can't exactly blame the man." His friend shrugged, "Can't say I would have done much better in his situation."

"Then why'd he sign a document he couldn't read!" the other cried, "Now all of Europe's ablaze and we're stuck out here fighting the damn frogs and their savage friends."

"I heard the man who signed the confession's in camp." His friend said, "Maybe you could give him a piece of your mind?"

"Wouldn't I like to." The man responded, shaking his head, "It's these Americans I tell ya. They're not like us at all. Sure they're Englishmen technically but this country does something weird to their head. You wouldn't see any true Englishman murdering a French ambassador, no matter how much the ass deserved it."

The two men laughed and Alfred frowned, taking a step back. True, he knew it had been an expedition led by a colonial gentleman that had shot a French ambassador which ultimately begun this whole bloody affair but that so-called "ambassador" had been a spy! He had only been pretending to be an ambassador while spying on his and Artie's lands, trying to stir up trouble like the French were so prone to do. Plus, like the man's friend had said, the colonial officer who had signed the papers admitting the murdering the French ambassador had no idea what he had signed. Last Alfred heard, the man's back had been against the wall and it was either sign the document or have his entire regiment slaughtered.

Shaking his head, Alfred continued to his destination, holding the letter even tighter. Those two men weren't like the common British solider, he reassured himself. After all, they were brethren, they were kindred spirits fighting for King and Country, so of course they would welcome their colonial cousins with open arms! Smiling again and keeping this sentiment in his mind, Alfred quickened his pace and he hurried through the camp.

\-----------

He approached the house where he knew the general was staying, smiling hesitantly at the solider that stood posted by the doorway.

"I'm here to deliver a message to General Braddock." He explained, holding the envelope out.

"From who?"

"Sir Kirkland."

"Very well." The solider held his hand out but Alfred hesitated.

"Um. Actually I need to give this to the General in person." Alfred explained, "Is that okay...?"

The solider looked surprised, then shrugged, "So be it." He said, "Please, follow me."

Alfred followed the solider into the house. It was a nice house, he noted, clearly belonging to a middle to upper class family. Though not huge, it seemed a decent enough size, with rather sturdy looking furniture and a few portraits of rather stern-looking men hanging from the walls.

"Please wait in here for General Braddock" the solider said, leading Alfred into the parlor, "He is currently in a meeting with his other officers, so it may be some time but we will retrieve you once he is done."

"That's fine." Alfred responded, smiling at the solider.

The solider nodded, then walked stiffly out, shutting the door behind him. Alfred looked briefly around the parlor before sitting down on one of the love seats in the center of the room. It was a somewhat small parlor, with a harpsichord in one corner and another seat besides the one Alfred was sitting on across from Alfred.

He sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, trying to sit straight as the time ticked by. The minutes dragged onto to hours and Alfred grew more and more impatient. Maybe they had forgotten about him altogether? Alfred wondered, finally standing up to stretch. His butt felt numb and he took a few steps to shake the feeling back into his legs. After standing for another few minutes and still hearing nothing, Alfred shrugged his shoulder and walked out of the parlor, looking for someone that could help him.

The door out of the parlor led to a hallway, and though Alfred knew which way to go for the solider that had shown him to the parlor, he had to admit he was a bit curious about what a general's quarters looked like.

A small peek can't hurt, right? Alfred reasoned, peering down the hallway. There were no noises, indicating that nobody was around, so Alfred quickly looked around once more before making his way down the rather narrow hallway.

He had just passed a few doors when he heard what sounded like raised voices. Frowning, he took a few more steps forward, trying to pinpoint the origin of the voices. It sounded like they were coming from a door further down the hallway, so Alfred approached the door, quietly, leaning forward against it to listen to what the voices were saying.

"…and I am telling you, sirs, that carrying such a heavy train will only serve to slow us down, make us targets of the Natives!"

"What do you propose we leave behind then, sir? We are already traveling light!"

"No, no you certainly are not!"

It seemed like the officers were arguing amongst themselves and Alfred's frown deepened. This was one of his fist campaigns working with Artie's forces and, well he had rather expected them to behave more professionally, with no arguing at the table.

Suddenly the door burst open and Alfred, who had been leaning into the door was thrown back. A British officer, dressed in all red and wearing a powdered wig stood in the doorway, looking down at Alfred in surprise. There was a brief second, then the officer's face quickly became enraged and with a cry, he reached forward, grabbed Alfred by the arm, and dragged him into the war room.

"What is the meaning of this?" the man at the head of the table asked, looking between Alfred, who was standing there limply, his head hung and the British officer who had a vice grip on Alfred's arm.

"I caught this boy spying in the doorway, sir" the officer responded, "He's dressed in our uniform but was by no means behaving as a British solider ought to. Perhaps he is a spy for the French?"

"I'm no spy!" Alfred cried, indignantly, snapping his head up and looking at the officers, seated and standing around a center table, "I'm sorry…I had a correspondence for General Braddock and I heard voices and well, well…I was just curious. I know it's improper for me to behave in such a manner but I just wanted to know what was happening!"

"No solider of his Majesty's army would behave in such a shameful manner." The officer barked, "Why would we believe what you say?"

"I have papers, sir!" Alfred cried, "Not on me but perhaps if you could give me a chance to retrieve them…"

"You shall have no such thing" the officer responded, shaking his head, "Even if you are a solider you deserve a proper lashing for such insolent behavior. We shall attend to your punishment, then hold you for a period until we are able to determine your true nature."

"Sir!" Alfred cried in horror, "I…I'm sorry I truly am! I was curious that was all! Simply curious! You cannot blame a man for wishing to know what he is fighting for?"

"You fight for your crown and country, boy, need you any other reason!?" the officer cried in disbelief, "A justification of why we fight explained to a common private! Who ever heard of such a thing? Come now, let us attend to that punishment."

"Sir!"

"No, you have had your say and you must face the consequences of your actions!" the officer tightened his grip on Alfred's arm and he winced slightly, squirming in worry and discomfort.

"Captain, please wait" a young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, suddenly stood. He was dressed differently from the other officers, wearing a blue coat with a red waistcoat and pants instead of the traditional red and white of the British army. He was also substantially taller than the other officers, clearly standing over the heads of all in the room and had a powerful build. His hair was an auburn color and tied back into a queue and his eyes were a light blue, "I believe I recognize this private."

"Indeed, Colonel" the officer holding Alfred responded, raising an eyebrow, "And pray tell, who is this audacious young man? One of yours perhaps?"

"He is" the colonel nodded, "He is a member of the Virginia militia and has served for years with his father. He is a trustworthy boy, no friend of the French, though as you have seen, has a tendency to run himself into trouble at times."

"So he's a colonial" the officer responded, his voice thick with contempt, "Small wonder for his actions then."

"I will not have you insulting my men like that." The colonel responded, his blue eyes flashing coldly, "May I remind you that my troops have fought the Native savages valiantly for the past few decades, holding down the frontiers of the British Empire."

"And may I remind you, Colonel that while your…colonials were playing games with the savages, fighting half-men with sticks, my men were fighting against real armies on the battlefields of Europe."

"Sir, I endeavor to respect you and all that serve in his Majesty's regulars" the colonel responded, his voice growing louder with anger, "But you and your friends' inability to see the full might of those that you belittle and call "savages" indeed shall be your downfall! The French understand this, sir, are we to be less astute than our enemies in this land?! Oh you may laugh at my men now, but I can assure you that that boy alone", here the colonel gestured wildly to Alfred, "has more courage than twenty of your regular troops!"

"And that would explain why he was sulking in the corridor?"

"Do not question his courage in the face of fire, for I would stake my very honor upon it!"

"Oh indeed!" the officer sneered, "The honor of a colonial gentleman?!"

"ARE YOU QUESTIONING IT!?" the colonel at this point was yelling, both fists clenched as he glared down at the substantially shorter officer.

"Colonel Washington!" the man at the head of the table stood up quickly, glaring at the colonel, "Calm yourself man we cannot have fighting within our own military family!"

The colonel, who Alfred now identified as Washington glared at the officer holding Alfred one last time before looking at the man seated at the head of the table, "I…I apologize sir." He said, bowing his head stiffly, his face hard.

The man nodded, "This is what we shall do. Since Colonel Washington has claimed the boy, we shall let the boy go with him. Colonel, you shall determine the proper punishment for his actions. You shall also be responsible for his welfare and discipline as you would be for any of your other troops. Is that an agreement we can all settle on?"

The men in the room nodded, and the man at the head of the table smiled, "Very well Private…" he looked expectantly at Alfred.

"Ah…" Alfred said, "It's Jones. Alfred F. Jones."

"Very well Private Jones" the man said, "We shall release you into the custody of Colonel Washington if that is agreeable with you?"

"Y…Yes sir, of course it is." Alfred said, quietly, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room pointedly, "But before I go, I must ask, are you General Braddock?"

"Indeed I am. Why?"

"Well then, I…I still need to give you this…" he held the letter that Artie had sent him out, still keeping his eyes to the ground.

"Who's it from?"

"Um. Kirkland. Sir Kirkland."

"You don't say…" Braddock smiled gently at Alfred and took the letter, "I shall have a response as soon as I am able, young man. Now Colonel Washington, if you don't mind?"

Washington bowed stiffly again to Braddock and without a word to anyone else in the room strode out, Alfred hurrying quickly and quietly behind him.

The two walked out of the house, Alfred half-jogging to keep up with the colonel's long footsteps. Every now and then Alfred would half-glance up at the man's face but it remained the same stiff and angry mask he had maintained since he walked out of the house. They walked in silence for some time through the camp before the colonel stopped in front of a rather large tent.

"Um. Sir?" Alfred said, hesitantly, "Um. Well. Thank you."

Washington look startled for a second, before registering who was speaking to him, "Oh yes." He coughed, "You know, young man, you really should be more careful. The captain really was not in the wrong for suggesting a caning for your behavior. It was completely unacceptable and out of line. If you continue to act in such a manner, I will not protect you again."

"I…I know." Alfred muttered, "I'm sorry, it really was just curiosity."

"Indeed." Washington responded, looking thoughtful, "Come, walk with me for a bit. I have much on my mind."

"Me, sir?" Alfred asked, startled, "But…sir I'm just a private."

"That you are. And frankly, it is not often that I take people into my confidence." Washington said, "But I am perplexed, frustrated, and miles away from friends at the moment. Additionally, I cannot explain why but I feel that I can trust you. It is rather strange, but I am not in the mood to ponder whatever odd sentiments I may have."

"Very well sir." Alfred bowed slightly, then followed Washington again as he stared walking further from the camp.

"Tell me, Private…Jones was it?"

"Indeed, sir."

"Very well, tell me Private Jones. How long have you fought for King and Country?"

Longer than you'd believe Alfred thought to himself. Aloud however he said, "For some time, sir. Though this is my first time serving in his majesty's army itself."

Washington let out a short bark of laughter, "I do not mean to be a cynic, young man, but I must warn you now you are not serving in his majesty's army."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You're a colonial." Washington stopped walking. Alfred stopped too and looked up at the larger man, noting the frown tugging at his lips, "You'll never be acknowledged as a member of his majesty's army."

"But that can't be right, sir." Alfred protested, "I'm an Englishman, I'm serving King and Country, what else is there?"

"I wonder…" Washington said, thoughtfully, "I've been wondering for years now. Just because we are born across the sea, does that make us any less English than those born in the heart of the empire? Does that mean we are a meaner sort, a lesser sort than those found in London?"

"I…I certainly don't think so sir!" Alfred exclaimed. Artie didn't see him as a "lesser" sort at least, that Alfred was confident of, "I have good reason to believe that England cares just as much for us as he does for himself!"

"I certainly hope you're right, dear boy." Washington said, still staring off into the distance, "It's just…lately I've felt so frustrated with my situation."

"What do you mean sir?"

"I've tried to serve my country loyally, I really have." Washington sighed, "But I feel like I am pushing against an immovable wall. Surely you saw it in the meeting today. They treat our men, my men with such contempt...I have become weary of the British arrogance I see every day about me."

"I…I do not believe England himself would treat you with contempt, sir." Alfred said, quietly, "These men, they surely do not make up the entirety of our nation. It is simply a few bad apples…if…if you could meet England I'm sure he would hold you in the same regard as he holds the king himself! That's our nation, after all. One of liberty!" Alfred reassured Washington, his chest somewhat swelling in pride.

"You speak of England in a rather strange fashion, young man, but it is clear you hold a great deal of love for her." Washington observed.

"I do" Alfred responded, earnestly, "England…has provided everything for me and protected me. How could I not?"

"And she is a land of liberty as you said earlier." Washington smiled, "You are right, you know. Hold that sentiment close to you. I love our nation too, oh I do indeed. She is beautiful and she is free, more so than any other land on Earth. I would rather be an Englishman than anything else; we are not forced to endure the heavy weight of oppression like the French or Spanish."

"I feel the same" Alfred said, nodding.

"I am glad I spoke with you." Washington said. His face seemed far more relaxed and friendly now, the anger and tension drained from it, "You have reminded me of what I am fighting for and why I wear this uniform. I have a temper that is rather short at times, you see and was worried it would burst forth after that rather trying meeting. Indeed, I was almost at a loss as to why I was even fighting anymore, after seeing some of the arrogance of the British…but no matter. You are right, and I must remember what you have said today."

"I am glad, I could help, sir." Alfred responded, "It was the least I could do after you rescued me."

Washington laughed, to Alfred's surprise, a low but soothing sound, "Indeed, but keep your behavior in mind, dear boy. It won't do to have privates spying on war councils."

"I-Indeed sir!" Alfred said, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks. He liked the colonel's smile; it was warm, genuine, and comforting and Alfred found himself drawn to it.

"Well I suppose it best we head back to our camp now, Private Jones." Washington smiled again at Alfred, "But keep in mind, though I do enjoy your company there is a level of respect that must be maintained between a private and a colonel."

"Of course, sir!" Alfred chirped, standing straight, "I wouldn't dream of doing anything that would upset you-I mean upset the order of his majesty's army."

"Are you always so eager to please?" Washington asked, still smiling at Alfred, clearly amused.

"Ah-well" Alfred stuttered, flushing again, "Sir you are my commanding officer so it is only natural that I seek to please?"

"Naturally" Washington nodded, "Well then, Private Jones, let us return to our camp so that we may best serve and please our country."

"Yes, sir!"

The two turned back to their camp and began walking back, this time at a slow leisurely pace, making it far easier for Alfred to keep up with the colonel's longer legs. Though Alfred couldn't be sure of those two British regulars he overheard earlier, or even of the officer who had yelled at him earlier that day, he was certain that so long as he and Artie had men like this Colonel Washington on his side, there was absolutely no way they would lose to any force, be it the Natives, the French, or the entirety of Europe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred meets a young Frenchman and becomes quite jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to continue this not as a story but as a series of one-shots. There is no order or really rhyme or reason to these one-shots, it's literally just whatever I feel like writing with the common theme being events or people involved in the American Revolution.

**Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, 1777**

\------------------------------------------------

It was snowing.

Alfred sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around him as he attempted to ignore the icy chill around him. It was winter, and a bitterly cold one at that. Though the snowfall had not been particularly heavy this year, the low temperature and freezing winds were nearly unbearable and Alfred was absolutely miserable. His men were faring no better though, the bloody smears in the snow often indicative of where his troops had tread. They were low on everything; food, clothes, supplies, ammunition, and there did not appear to be much reason to hope that relief was on the way.

They had set up camp for the winter in Pennsylvania this year and while there had initially been some hope that the surrounding farms, rich as they were, would provide the troops with badly needed food, it had soon become apparent that this would not be the case. The men were starving, mostly subsisting off a mixture of flour and water and more and more were deserting the camp with each passing day. Alfred did wish that his men would stay with him and fight, but he could not entirely blame them. The situation was absolutely miserable, the camp was ridden with death and disease, and if he had to be honest Alfred was more amazed at the men who had chosen to stay than those who had left.

Despite some success earlier in the year, particularly in New York, Alfred had to admit the situation looked rather grim. Philadelphia had already fallen and his Congress had fled. It wasn't that capturing his capitol could stop Alfred, but it was somewhat of a rather large blow to his morale. He was tired, oh so very tired, and knew that much of his hopes at this point rested with the European squabbles and how much aid he could get from England's enemies, particularly Francis. The victory in Saratoga undoubtedly had strengthened the argument America had built for French aide, but Alfred could only pray that it was enough.

Alfred shook his head, trying to push his doubts to the back of his mind. He had ridden out earlier that day with a small group to do some scouting of the surrounding terrain and they were returning to camp now. Though somewhat unusual, Alfred's commander-in-chief, General Washington, had decided to come with their small scouting group, accompanied by two of his aide-de-camps, a young man from South Carolina named John Laurens and his close friend, Alexander Hamilton. Alfred had the sneaking suspicion that the reason they had decided to do this mission had more to do with just getting out of the camp for a bit and getting some exercise than actually doing any scouting, but considering how long they had been cooped up, Alfred completely understood.

Washington rode ahead of him and Alfred couldn't help but study the man from behind as they rode in silence, paying little attention to his surroundings. He was a large man of rather extraordinary strength, Alfred knew, but a certain weariness seemed to cling about him, pulling his shoulders down into a slump and drawing the corners of his mouth down into a permanent frown.

Alfred swallowed, hard. He had first met Washington when the man had still been fairly young, in his early twenties. They had served together under Braddock during the French and Indian War, and Alfred had taken note of the young colonel from Virginia. He looked nothing like the man who rode ahead of him now. Stress and weariness had taken a toll on Washington and it was starting to show.

A sudden desire to say something, _anything_ swept Alfred and he blinked, looking away. He wanted to thank his general, to tell him that he really was grateful for everything the man had done, that Alfred really cared for him; not just as country to leader but as man to man.

A small lump had wormed its way into Alfred throat and he frowned, thinking. How to express how he felt though? How to explain to this man that he truly, really was thankful, that he cared, that he paid no attention to the malicious tongues in Congress that whispered of incompetence behind his general's back, and that he would stand firm and stay besides his general no matter what?

What to say? How to condense all of those intense emotions into a single thought, a single phrase? Alfred furrowed his brow, trying to form his thoughts into a coherent idea.

They soon rode into camp, mostly in a rather gloomy silence. After leading their horses to the makeshift stables they had built, Washington, followed by Laurens and Hamilton, dismounted and handed their reigns off to the stable master, their faces all drawn and grim. Their ride had been rather unsuccessful and the weight of the situation was proving stressful for all three of them. Though Laurens and Hamilton were still young, Alfred could tell their current predicament was also wearing heavily on them.

But still. He had to say _something_ at the very least to his general. His mind resolved, Alfred quickly dismounted, also handing his reigns off and starting after Washington, who had begun walking away from the stable without a word. He had no idea what he was going to say, but whatever it was, it would be better than nothing. Steadying himself, Alfred reached out, tapping the general on the shoulder.

"Yes?" the man turned, looking down at Alfred. Though his eyes clearly betrayed his exhaustion, Washington smiled down at Alfred, a calming though weary expression.

"S…sir" he stammered, forcing the nervous ball down, down from his throat, to his chest, and finally to the pit of his stomach where it rested, buzzing furiously, "Well. Sir. I…I just-"

Before he could finish his sentence though, there was a sudden cry. Startled, Alfred jumped, looking up and seconds later a young man ran past Alfred, flinging himself right into Washington's arms.

Alfred looked on dumbfounded as the young man cried out something that sounded oddly French and quickly kissed Washington on the cheeks. Washington, to Alfred's surprise, did not push the man off but smiled instead, a pale blush dusting his cheeks and, somewhat awkwardly, embraced the man in return. A funny tightening feeling arose in Alfred's chest, something akin to what he had felt when England had paid too much attention to Matthew when he was younger and he looked in annoyance at the young man who had by now let go of Washington but was talking excitedly and happy, paying Alfred no heed.

"Lafayette" Washington finally said, once the younger man had stopped talking, "I do not believe I've introduced you to our nation yet?" Washington said, using his right hand to indicate Alfred, "This is Mr. Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America."

"Sir, you can't tell him who I am right away!" Alfred protested, "I don't even know who he is!"

"Alfred, I trust this man like no other." Washington responded, smiling lightly, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. The height difference between two was slight, Alfred noticed, though Washington was certainly more filled out than the younger man, who had a slight face and slim figure with reddish hair and dark eyes, "He…he is a son to me."

The tightening in Alfred's chest grew worse as Washington turned his attention away from Alfred to regard the young man with open fondness, "A…a son, sir?" he managed to ask, forcing a strained smile, "That's wonderful."

Washington nodded, "This is the Marquis de Lafayette," he said, "He comes from France and has already proved himself to me and gained my complete trust and confidence."

"An honor to meet you, monsieur." Lafayette bowed low and Alfred noted the heavy French accent he spoke with, "I have met my own country before and am glad to make the acquaintance of another."

"Yea…sure." Alfred responded, forcing the same strained smile and bowing stiffly in return, "You have met Francis then?"

"Yes, friend." Lafayette smiled, "I am working to convince him to join this glorious cause! After all, this is not only a fight for your independence, but rather for the rights and liberty of all mankind! You not only strike at the English tyrant but despots everywhere! Ah! America your nation is indeed beautiful! You do not have the rank poverty or taint of the, ah, Ancient Regimes! Here men are indeed equal! It is indeed magnifique my dearest country!"

"Um." Alfred blinked, startled by the barrage of passion, "Thank you?" he said.

Washington laughed, startling Alfred, "I really do believe you two will get along wonderfully." He said, smiling openly now. Alfred noticed how his posture seemed to have changed slightly once Lafayette had arrived; he no longer looked so weary and was standing a bit straighter. The tightening sensation grew worse, and was almost unbearable.

"It was wonderful to meet you, Monsieur Lafayette" Alfred said, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him, "But, sir, if you don't mind I am horribly weary at the moment and would prefer some rest. I mean no disrespect to yourself or our esteemed guest but I would very much like to get some sleep."

"There is no offense, my dear America!" Lafayette cried, shaking his head frantically.

"Of course not, Alfred" Washington responded, also shaking his head, "Why don't you go lie down for a bit? Lafayette, if you would come with me, we have much to discuss."

Bowing jerkily, Alfred quickly turned on heel, hurrying through the camp to his tent.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Collapsing onto his bed, Alfred finally let a few of the bitter tears he had been holding back fall from his eyes. He had never had the chance to say what he wanted to Washington, and even worse he saw how different Washington looked once he had seen Lafayette.

Washington always looked weary around Alfred, and though Alfred knew it largely had to do with the stress of his situation, he never could quite stop the guilt he felt when he was with his general. Additionally, the contrast in his demeanor while around Alfred and then while around Lafayette was almost unbearable.

_He's so much happier with him._ Alfred thought, wiping the tears from his eyes. It made sense though. Lafayette did not carry with him the burden of a nation, as Alfred did. Any human would become weary around Alfred with such a heavy load; it was simply a matter of fact.

Alfred could feel the jealousy bubbling up inside him and he held his hands over his eyes, trying to force the tears down. He was jealous, oh yes so very jealous of the young Frenchman who had somehow managed to win over his general. Alfred had always had a selfish streak, going back to him fighting for Arthur's attention over his twin brother, but never had he been so overwhelmingly jealous towards a human. The knowledge that Lafayette could and would age with Washington, that Lafayette could share a human bond with Washington, that Lafayette did not force those around him to carry such a heavy load, the weight of an entire peoples, on their backs all poured into Alfred's mind and he wept openly.

"Alfred?"

Alfred jumped, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes, "Yes?" he called out, trying to keep his voice normal, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Alfred." The voice responded, "It's John Laurens. You mind if I come in?"

Recognizing the voice, Alfred swallowed, determined to keep his voice calm, "Sure" he said, as nonchalantly as possible, "Please do."

The flap to Alfred's tent opened and Laurens stooped down slightly, letting himself in. He was a rather tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that had been tied back into a queue and light blue eyes.

"Alfred" Laurens said, gently, after taking one look at his face, "What's the matter?"

"What do you mean?" Alfred said, smiling widely, "I'm fine! Well a bit tired but really I'm fine! Never felt better! Things are moving along not too badly right I mean okay that's not right the troops are starving and it's a mess and we have no food I mean who would have thought here in the middle of so many farms we'd be starving, but you know the general-"

Laurens held up a hand, stopping Alfred's ramblings, "Alfred, you are horribly transparent." he said, shaking his head and sitting on the cot next to him, "Hammie and I thought it strange that you went running off as soon as we got back without even saying goodbye and here I find you, cooped up and crying."

"I'm not crying."

"Alfred, your eyes are completely red and swollen."

"It's the cold."

Laurens said nothing, instead raising his eyebrow and cocking his head at Alfred, "Really now?"

Alfred looked away, his hands playing with the hem of his shirt, "Okay I was a little upset, but it's nothing really. I mean it; it really is not a serious issue."

"You don't like Gilbert." Laurens said, matter-of-factly.

"Gilbert?" Alfred asked frowning, "You mean Prussia?"

"Oh, no I meant Lafayette" Laurens corrected him, "I call him Gilbert. Well Hammie and I call him Gilbert. "

"So you're good friends?" Alfred asked miserably.

"Yes, we hold him in very high esteem." Laurens nodded, "He's a wonderful and interesting man, horribly dedicated to the Cause and loyal to those he loves."

"I'm sure he is!" Alfred responded, trying to sound cheerful, "And I'm sure he will prove to be a valuable ally, I certainly hope to speak to him more often. After all, he's helping our Cause and you know he seems to be a good man I mean Washington trusts him right?"

"Alfred, come now, stop forcing yourself to act cheerful, your jealousy of Gilbert was rather apparent." Laurens said, laughing, "What is it, dearest? Is it Washington?"

Alfred blushed, looking away and crossing his arms, "Is it that obvious?" he mumbled, "I…I mean he just goes running into his arms and…and kisses him! Who does that it…it's not proper!"

"But it is French" Laurens replied, playfully, "Funny how often those two conflict isn't it?"

"Well I don't care too much for French ways then." Alfred responded, sullenly, "And what does Washington mean like a son I…I thought…" he stopped, mentally cursing himself. He had said too much.

"You thought Washington saw you as a son perhaps?" Laurens finished Alfred's sentence, his voice gentle, "Is that what it is?"

Alfred blushed, a vibrant red, "I…I don't know. I mean, I can't. I know I can't. It's stupid. I'm stupid. Washington…Washington will eventually be gone. England always told me this, I can't place this much…heart into a mortal, and he's right here, I can't. Washington and Lafayette will grow old together. They'll age and die and go to heaven together and I…I'll just be left behind for all eternity. They'll be dead together and I'll be stuck here on this Earth and I…I just _hate_ it so much. I hate watching him, you, everyone pass by me, moving onto the next world while I'm just here. Trapped forever and always left behind. And when I finally do die, I know it will happen someday…John I don't think nations have souls."

"That's nonsense." Laurens said, soothingly, placing a hand on Alfred's back and rubbing circles into it, "complete and utter nonsense. I am certain you have a soul, Alfred dearest and I am certain your soul is far more beautiful than any in existence. As for Washington…well just because he sees Gilbert as a son does not necessarily mean he holds you in any lower esteem, you know that. He loves you, dearly and completely."

"Of course he does, he has no choice in that matter" Alfred responded, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?"

"He, you, Hamilton, everyone." Alfred buried his head in his hands, "Of course you love me, I'm your country, I'm America, you have to." He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyes, "But do you really love me? Not America, not my nation, me. Alfred F. Jones. Do you really think Washington would have looked at me for more than two seconds had I not been his nation? Do you really think you could have given me the time of day if I weren't your country? Do you really think that even Lafayette would have been so eager to meet me if he had thought it was just me, plain old Alfred?"

"Alfred-"

"No, it's fine" Alfred shook his head, quickly wiping his eyes. The tightening in his chest was nearly unbearable now, "You can't separate America from me. I know this. Every nation knows this. I can't ask of such a burden from you, that's unreasonable."

"You _are_ unreasonable" Laurens responded, his face stern, "Oh Alfred, my dear boy you are so very unreasonable."

"I didn't mean-"

"No, Alfred you will listen to me" Laurens interrupted, shaking his head, "Do you really think so little of us that you believe we would not take time to learn who you were? Do you really think that we cared only for your nationhood and nothing for you? Alfred, yes you are America and yes, you are right, we will never be able to distinguish this nation from you as you are one and the same. And perhaps you are right in thinking we may have never met had you not been America. But do you not see how foolish such thinking is? What matters is we did meet; we have met and we have grown to love you as if you were one of our own kin. We do love you Alfred, you and your obstinacy and inability to sometimes see the obvious, Alfred we care about you and see you as a dear, dear friend."

"But John-"

"Alfred, there are no buts in this matter!" Laurens cried, "Why are you so determined to cast us aside? Yes, we will be gone someday and for you, that day may seem too soon. But please, while we are here, while we are together, why not enjoy each other's company? Why not embrace what we so willingly offer to you? Not the allegiance and loyalty we swear to our nation, but the friendship we swear to you."

"John I…"

"Alfred I will not hear a word of protest from you" Laurens shook his head, "My dear boy, you forget that Hammie and I enjoy debating in our free time. I have held my own against that man, do you really believe you can win against me?"

Alfred paused, frowning, "When you put it that way…"

"Wonderful." Laurens smiled, "I'm glad you understand."

"Why do you think Washington's so open to Lafayette though?" Alfred mumbled, "I know, you don't want me to protest…but I am curious."

"Washington is a man of passion, you realize that, and horribly paternalistic as well." Laurens responded, "He extends the same hand of friendship to all that enter his military family, be it you, me, or Lafayette."

"Really?" Alfred frowned, "That's…strange."

"Why do you think so?"

"Well he isn't like that with Hamilton…"

"Ah dearest Hammie." Laurens laughed, "No he certainly isn't, Alfred you are right. But that is more due to Hammie's behavior than Washington's."

"Are you two speaking slander behind my back?" Alfred jumped as Hamilton stuck his head into Alfred's tent, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

"How long have you been outside!?" Alfred cried, indignantly, jumping off his cot as Hamilton fully entered the tent, still smiling.

"Not long, not long" Hamilton waved his hand, "Just long enough to hear John knock some much needed sense into you, young man."

"I am several centuries older than you!" Alfred responded.

"And several ranks below me, is that any way to speak to a superior officer?" Hamilton asked, smirking and reaching out to ruffle Alfred's hair fondly.

"Now, Hammie stop abusing your power to tease poor Alfred and help me up" Laurens said before Alfred had a chance to respond, "I am tired and frail, after so many hours of hard work."

Hamilton rolled his eyes but nonetheless extended a hand towards his friend, a slight blush dusting his cheeks and a smile pulling at the edge of his lips, "I have done the same amount of work, yet here I am in a sprightly condition."

"Oh yes, rub it in my face, why don't you" Laurens sighed dramatically, as he pulled himself up, "Well, Alfred my dear boy, I do think I must take my leave now. Please think about what I said and we shall see you at dinner?"

"Of course" Alfred nodded, "John…thank you."

"There is no need to thank me" Laurens responded, shaking his head, "I have only done what any friend would do."

Alfred smiled at the men in front of him. The tightening in his chest had loosened substantially and he felt significantly better, "Perhaps" he responded, "But I still am thankful. To the both of you."

"Naturally" Hamilton laughed, "Who would not be thankful to have a friend such as myself?"

Laurens rolled his eyes and cuffed his friend lightly on the side of his head, "You and your ego, Hammie I do love you but it will someday be the death of you."

"Hopefully that day is far in the future" Hamilton responded, "Come now, John we still have some work to take care of before the day is out. Please get some rest for now, Alfred" he smiled at Alfred one last time before leaving the tent, followed closely by Laurens who also smiled quickly at Alfred before leaving.

Sighing, Alfred fell back onto his cot, a small smile playing across his face. Though he knew it would be difficult to get over his jealousy of Lafayette, perhaps he should give the Frenchman a chance. After all, he was friends with Hamilton and Laurens and Alfred sincerely hoped what Laurens said about Washington and himself were true. He would speak to Lafayette at dinner tonight, away from the others he decided, and judge for himself, based on the character of the man, not on his relationship with Alfred's leaders-no Alfred's _friends_ if Lafayette could perhaps prove to be a powerful friend and ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Washington/Lafayette friendship is literally one of my favorite in this period (along with Hamilton/Laurens and Washington/Hamilton/Laurens/Lafayette) but I'd imagine Alfred would get a bit jealous of it. :)
> 
> Also if you have ideas about what I should write about next that would be much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> The conversation that Alfred overheard at the beginning was of course related to Washington's whole accidentally-killing-a-French-ambassador-then-signing-a-document-confessing-to-said-murder-thus-giving-the-French-the-right-to-end-the-tense-peace-they-had-with-Britain-and-wage-the-Seven-Year-War shindig. Yea Washington was causing problems for the British before he even decided to help America win her independence but was really young at the time though, only about 20/21 years old I think so let's forgive him for that one.


End file.
